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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23268346">A Touch of Strange</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/lyricwritesprose/pseuds/lyricwritesprose'>lyricwritesprose</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Doctor Who Drabbles [9]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Double Drabble, Drabble, F/F, First Meetings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-03-24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-03-24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-01 07:27:32</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>200</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23268346</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/lyricwritesprose/pseuds/lyricwritesprose</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Jenny Flint meets someone extraordinary.  The rules she was taught as a child say she should be frightened.  And maybe she is—but not as much as she is fascinated.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Jenny Flint/Madame Vastra</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Doctor Who Drabbles [9]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1665835</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>46</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>A Touch of Strange</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Jenny should have run away.<br/>
<br/>
By all the rules of being properly female, she should have fled her rescuer, screaming. Old voices from childhood: <em>snakes are slimy, I dare you to touch that, I can't believe you touched that!</em> She'd been mocked enough; she'd never dared to admit that she didn't find snakes disgusting. Fascinating, rather. Smooth and alien and just dangerous enough to be thrilling. A touch of strange.<br/>
<br/>
The dragon-lady was looking at her, surprise and perhaps a trace of unease usurping her previous haughty confidence. She had, Jenny realized, expected screaming and fainting.<br/>
<br/>
Jenny <em>was</em> afraid. She'd just seen this woman–this impossible, mythical being–annihilate the seven-foot-tall, clawed abomination which was all that was left of Mister Carlyle. The body was still at the base of the servant's stairwell.<br/>
<br/>
But the fear didn't stand a chance against the wonderment of it. Jenny stepped forward hesitantly. Then, as if dreaming, she reached out to touch the dragon-lady's face.<br/>
<br/>
Not slimy. Rough and rich with texture and enthralling.<br/>
<br/>
"What are you?" Jenny breathed.<br/>
<br/>
The dragon-lady's eyes hadn't left Jenny's. She seemed almost as fascinated by Jenny as Jenny was by her. "My name is Vastra," she said softly.</span>
</p>
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